Dust to Dust (4 page)

‘When news spread north to the cities, the families of some of the more noble Scottish participants were adamant they did not want their loved ones left to be rolled and tumbled into the communal pits and pyres of the forest. The Le Clerk family were tasked with preserving the bodies of those of noble birth they could find and transporting them up to Edinburgh and beyond for proper burial.

‘This never happened: Black Death beat them to it. It had already spread north by the time the bodies had been preserved and was wreaking havoc throughout Scotland. The embalmed corpses remained in the Borders, where they were buried in a secret chamber at Dryburgh Abbey – the papers I mentioned earlier tell us where that chamber is. Sixteen Black Death victims, preserved by masters of the craft, lie waiting there. Are you interested, doctor?’

John Motram’s face was wreathed in smiles. ‘I feel as if Christmas has come early this year,’ he said. ‘What a fascinating story, and what an intriguing prospect … although …’ The smile faded. ‘There’s a bit of a cloud on the horizon, I’m afraid. It seems my research funding in this area is not going to be renewed, and without it the cost of mounting an excavation would be prohibitive.’

Harvey leaned back in his chair as if master of all he surveyed and said, ‘You know, I think we might be able to help there.’

‘Really?’

‘Have you heard of the Hotspur Foundation?’

Motram shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Neither had I until a few weeks ago, but we, among certain other academic institutions across the land, have been asked to recommend suitable candidates for funding – what the newspapers might call “top scientists” – in certain fields. You fall into one of the categories.’

‘Bygone plagues?’ said Motram with a look of incredulity.

‘It’s more your expertise in the mechanics of viral infection they’re interested in,’ said Harvey with a smile. ‘Your broader area of expertise – but two birds with one stone and all that, eh, doctor? It’s up to you how you spend the money.’

‘Sounds too good to be true,’ said Motram. ‘Who’s behind this foundation?’

‘It’s not clear,’ replied Harvey, ‘but that isn’t unusual in these cases – probably a reclusive billionaire atoning for the past misdeeds which got him the fortune in the first place, I shouldn’t wonder. He’ll be bidding for a late entry pass through the gates of heaven – if you’ll pardon my cynicism.’

Motram smiled. ‘And what exactly would these people expect from me?’ he asked.

‘The only stipulation is that your expertise can be called upon without too much notice if and when the occasion arises during the next few months. Nothing more specific.’

‘Pretty vague,’ said Motram. ‘Still, if this enables me to carry on with my work and lets me unlock the secrets lying in the Scottish Borders, I’m all for it.’

‘Good. Then I can put your name forward?’

‘Please do.’ Motram hesitated, then asked, ‘At the risk of sounding rude and perhaps even ungrateful, might I ask what you and the college are getting out of all this?’

Harvey smiled. ‘Prestige, doctor – what we value most. After all, if you are successful, we would be instrumental in bringing about the resolution of an important academic argument, would we not?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Motram.

‘Excellent,’ exclaimed Harvey. ‘Then I think we should put our collaboration on a more formal basis. I’ll send off a letter to your university suggesting that we make you an honorary research fellow of the college for the duration of the investigation and put forward your credentials for funding from the Hotspur Foundation. Perhaps you’d care to join me for some lunch?’

Motram was entertained to the kind of lunch that had him thanking fate that he hadn’t driven down to Oxford but had opted for the train instead. He wondered how people who lunched like that regularly could possibly function in the afternoon, although he had to admit that Harvey seemed perfectly alert. One thing was still intriguing him, so he asked, ‘What made you decide to approach me?’

Harvey smiled. ‘We didn’t pick your name out of a hat, if that’s what you’re wondering,’ he said. ‘When the papers from the house in the Borders came into our possession, we did some research to find out who might best benefit from the new finding. Your reputation and expertise – not to mention the publicity given to the current academic argument – put you at the top of the list. I have to admit that the appearance of the Hotspur Foundation on the scene was something we hadn’t anticipated, but why knock serendipity? Bringing all these factors together for mutual benefit is, well … what I do.’

‘And very well too,’ said Motram. ‘I must say I’m intrigued by the Hotspur Foundation.’

‘As I said, individual benefactors are by no means unusual, although I understand that in this case the funds are really quite substantial.’

‘Perhaps those sorts of benefactors are not unusual in Oxford University.’ Motram deliberately accentuated his northern accent. ‘For us folk up north it’s quite a different matter. How does it work? I mean, who makes the decisions? Who holds the purse strings?’

‘In this instance, I understand it’s a firm of London solicitors, although it would be naive to imagine that they actually make the decisions. They’ll be charged with maintaining their client’s anonymity while relaying their instructions and advice.’

‘I seem to remember you saying that funding was being provided for researchers in “certain fields”,’ said Motram. ‘Can you be more precise?’

Harvey nodded. ‘Broadly speaking, within the compass of viral infection, immune response, transplantation technology and post-operative care.’

‘Sexy science,’ said Motram. ‘No one ever puts up funding for research into arthritis, deafness or the stuff that makes life a misery for so many in later life. Unfortunately, old age is usually a case of never mind the quality, count the years.’

‘Sadly true,’ nodded Harvey. ‘Death is seen as the great enemy.’

‘And we’ll all live for ever if only we can wipe out killer disease. It’s a peculiar mindset.’

‘Born out of fear,’ said Harvey. ‘Fear of the great unknown: it’s the way it’s always been.
The grave’s a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace
.’

‘About sums it up,’ said Motram.

Harvey replenished their glasses from a crystal decanter that had a Latin inscription on it which Motram kept trying to see in its entirety but fate kept denying him. ‘Tell me more about your belief that Black Death was caused by a virus and not plague,’ he said. ‘I’m led to believe that you know more than perhaps anyone else about how viruses attack us. I read one of your papers as part of my homework on you and was most impressed. As I said, I’m not a scientist, but I came away knowing a lot more than I had before. That says much about your abilities as a teacher. You are more concerned with imparting knowledge than achieving self-promotion through complexity, a curse that afflicts so many.’

‘Kind of you to say so.’

‘One thing worries me, though …’

‘What’s that?’

‘A short while ago you mentioned the possibility of Black Death’s having been caused by a virus unknown to us today?’

‘Just as a possibility,’ said Motram.

‘All the same, if that did turn out to be the case, wouldn’t there be a chance of opening Pandora’s box when it comes to breaching this vault in the Scottish Borders and bringing a killer back to life? I’d hate the college to be responsible for unleashing a new pandemic on the world.’

‘I really don’t think there’s much chance of that,’ said Motram. ‘Viruses can’t exist outside living tissue and these corpses have been lying there for seven centuries.’

‘But in a preserved state, we hope,’ Harvey reminded him.

‘Most preservation methods involve an end to the living state,’ said Motram. ‘Once the host ceases to exist, so does the virus. I suppose it could be argued that one particular method of preservation involves
suspension
of the living state, but that would involves deep freezing. If this fourteenth-century family actually came up with a chest freezer that’s been running at minus seventy degrees centigrade for the past seven hundred years without interruption, we could conceivably have a problem on our hands.’

‘Fair enough.’ Harvey, picked up the port decanter to refill Motram’s glass. ‘Mind you, we could be considering a virus we know nothing at all about.’

Motram grinned and said, ‘Agreed. If it came from outer space, all bets are off.’

SIX

‘It’s come through,’ announced John Motram, waving the letter he’d just opened in the air.

‘That’s nice, dear … what has?’ Cassie was preoccupied with the morning paper.

‘Permission in principle from Historic Scotland to investigate the site … subject to on-site evaluation and the presence of their inspector while work is in progress. Any further permissions will depend on his or her assessment of the situation on the ground.’

‘Gosh, that was quick,’ said Cassie, looking over her glasses. ‘I thought these things were supposed to take ages.’

‘This means we can start as soon as we determine the exact location of the tomb – maybe next week,’ said John, with obvious pleasure and enthusiasm.

Cassie looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ she asked.

‘Of course I’m sure,’ replied John, astonished. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I mean … have you thought about the dangers that might be involved in opening up a tomb like that?’

‘Cassie, I’ve been through all this with the chap at Oxford. It’s been over seven hundred years. No bacterium or virus lasts that long. You’re a doctor, you know that.’

‘Mmm,’ agreed Cassie, still sounding doubtful. ‘But we’re talking about Black Death here … and the Le Clerks were experts on preservation. Maybe they found ways of preserving bugs as well as bodies …’

John could see that his wife was genuinely worried. ‘That’s another of the lines Harvey took. Look,’ he said softly, ‘I don’t believe for one moment that there’s any danger, but if it makes you feel better we’ll be wearing coveralls and masks for the disinterment – actually to prevent us contaminating
them
, but it works both ways.’

‘It does make me feel better,’ said Cassie.

John continued opening his mail and Cassie returned to her paper until he interrupted again. ‘Damnation.’

‘Problems?’

‘It’s from the solicitors for the Hotspur Foundation – you know, the people who’re funding the work in the Borders. They’re calling in their part of the bargain. They want me in London for what they call “consultancy work”.’

‘What kind of consultancy work?’

‘They don’t say.’

‘Where abouts?’

‘A private hospital in west London, St Raphael’s.’

‘Will you go?’

‘I don’t have much choice. I agreed to their terms and conditions and they’ve been very generous with funding.’

‘So the search for the tomb will have to be put on hold?’

Motram smiled. ‘For a commercial break.’

Cassie left for work and John opened his briefcase to remove a bunch of papers which he spread out on the dining room table. His university had been so pleased about the collaboration with Balliol College, Oxford and the grant money coming in from the Hotspur Foundation that they had been more than helpful in agreeing to his taking time off to prepare for excavation. He had been excused all teaching duties for the remainder of the current term.

The papers that had come into Balliol’s possession had revealed that the corpses taken from the Selkirk forests had been interred in an underground chamber in Dryburgh Abbey, near Melrose. This had meant seeking permission from Historic Scotland to carry out preliminary work on the site but a potentially bigger problem was that Dryburgh Abbey had been destroyed on several occasions down through the years and getting information about its layout in the fourteenth century had been proving problematical. The abbey had been burned by English troops in 1322, rebuilt but burned again in 1385. It had enjoyed a renaissance in the fifteenth century, only to be destroyed again in 1544.

Motram’s task from the layouts in front of him was to identify, in the ruins of today, surviving parts of the original structure that could be used as reference points when interpreting the information given in the Balliol letter. To help him, Oxford academics had provided a translation of the Chaucerian English used in the text, and he was able to establish that the chapter house of the existing abbey – although surrounded by ruins – was in its original siting and, according to the collection of tourist pamphlets he had on the table, still retained elements of plaster and paintwork that dated back to the inception of the abbey.

There were a number of references in the Balliol letter to the chapter house, which encouraged Motram at first, but when it became apparent that the secret chamber might actually lie underneath it his spirits began to flag. It would be extremely unlikely – his academic translation of ‘there wouldn’t be a snowball’s chance in hell’ – that Historic Scotland would permit excavation work to go on inside perhaps the most precious part of the abbey.

But as he read further and made some relevant calculations it seemed that, although the entrance to the chamber might well be underneath the chapter house, the actual chamber itself stretched out to the east, outside the walls of the abbey. This meant that access to it might be achieved by digging east of the boundary wall – a much more acceptable proposal, he thought, for the authorities to sanction.

Motram examined some aerial photographs and identified what he thought might be the next problem. There were a number of very large mature trees in the grounds, which as he read further he learned were yews and cedars of Lebanon, very old and possibly planted by knights returning from the crusades.

Using the tip of his pen, he traced the likely location of the secret chamber to the east of the chapter house but found it impossible to judge how close to the roots of the trees it might come. His original thought had been to make an approach from the east end of the chamber – the end furthest from the abbey wall – but, if that was going to be a problem, he thought a compromise might be to gain access from the north or south sides where the ground would be clear but the digging would be closer to the abbey walls.